The Treaty of 1621
'Receiving Hall - ' ---- ::The diplomatic headquarters of House Driscol in Light's Reach, Whispering Falls Embassy is a large, spacious manor. Three purposes were in mind for the construction of the building - meetings between members of House Driscol and other nobility, the holding of diplomatic functions and a residence for the Duchy of House Driscol, near the government buildings of the city. ::''Constructed of red marble, the receiving hall of the embassy is the primary room of the manor. Tall arches run along the length of the room, from the double red biinwood doors in the front to the grand, white marble fireplace at the other end, carved with the image of a sunburst above blooming flowers. Just before the fireplace is a throne, carved for the Duchy of House Driscol, with a massive House Driscol Banner suspended above it, the rose in bloom on he field of scarlet and white. Here, the Duchy holds audience. ::''Just before the throne, two tables have been put together, in order to form a wide rectangle, with the throne in the seat of honor. One of the tables, to the right of the throne, is carved with the images of galloping horsemen, while the one on the left bears mudbears and merchant ships. Plenty of room is left between these tables and the door, to allow for dancing on the white tiles. Above all hang two crystal chandeliers, providing glittering light throughout the room. ::''When a more private meeting is required a modest, dark oak door sits on one side of the receiving hall, leading into the manor's parlor. Opposite this door is a more sizable set of double doors, leading out to the veranda before the manor's garden. ---- It is late in Light's Reach, but there is still work being done. Gefrey Driscol sits on the throne of his embassy, seeing off one of his visitors for the evening. The young lady curtsies as she goes, clearly pleased about something. Gefrey, on the other hand, is doing his best to not look dead tired as he leans back in his seat, quarterstaff crossing his lap in place of a sword. The visitor looks outlandish, out of place... and a bit uncertain as she navigates her way through the doors and across the marble room to stand before the throne. The Wildlander has no qualms (or perhaps no concept) about this direct path. She doesn't bow, either, though offering an uncertain, respectful nod to the Duke. She's a young woman, on the whole--supple leathers, early to mid twenties, straw-coloured hair bound in a tail at the nape of her neck, dark eyes bright and inquisitive, though they also betray another flash of that uncertainty. The nod accomplished, she looks now to Gefrey's face. "Evening." Pause, as if trying to remember something. "M'lord." Gefrey Driscol steels himself again, preparing to handle yet another visitor before bedtime. "Properly, it should be your Grace," he says, though it is gently, and with a smile. "Good evening, Mistress. You are from Crown's Refuge, I take it?" She reaches up to rub at the back of her neck, nodding. "Yes, er, your Grace. I came to see about those notices you put out? 'bout a month back, you were looking for Wildlander scouts?" Gefrey Driscol smiles slightly at that. "Yes, that was me," he agrees. "I did not think there would actually be anyone responding, however. You are interested in hearing what I have to say, then?" "I am." The Wildlander nods. "As a scout, I think I am probably adequate for the job. But I would rather like to know what I'd be signing myself up for, first." Gefrey Driscol smiles. "It is not so much," he says. "I seek scouts to help me train my own soldiers and nobility in the ways of the Wildlands." He pauses a moment, thoughtful. "We see that there is much in the lands you come from that is desirable, and much that is dangerous. We would be unable to complete such an endeavor without aid - we would like to change this, in the long run." The woman's eyes narrow, half thoughtfully, half suspiciously. "If I were to do this for you... what are you planning to take from the Wildlands?" "Minerals, if we may," Gefrey says easily. "New timbers we might not find within Fastheld. Horses." He gives a small smile. "And we might be able to give back, as well, to help the people of the Wildlands. Troops who are able to survive out there, they would not be used to conquer, but if there was something threatening your people, we would be able to help." The Wildlander laughs a little. "You realize, of course, that there are really very few people *left* in the Wildlands now." She pauses to consider. "Though, perhaps the troops would be helpful, in their way. I am not here to hand Fastheld the Wildlands on--what is your phrase?--a 'silver platter', you understand." Gefrey Driscol smiles, looking somewhat amused by that response. "Oh, I understood this before I ever set out," he says. "There has always been some resistance to change - and even if you were willing, I would be a fool to believe that you could. The Wildlands belong to no man - they cannot, and will remain such for a long time, I imagine." That wasn't what she was expecting. The narrow-eyed suspicion first deepens, then fades. A tentative smile creases for a brief moment before another thought occurs. "And those few of us left? You will give me your word not to force your customs and your laws and your regulations and rules on us?" "Within reason," Gefrey says simply. "In Fastheld, naturally, you will be expected to obey all. If you choose to work for me, you will be expected to obey and respect the chain of command, even when on duty in the Wildlands." He pauses a moment here. "However, you will also be treated with respect for what you do, and any Solaceguard captain who tries unduly to push you around when he should be listening will be quite strictly dealt with. Are we clear? I do not try to force my laws on the Wildlands, but I expect those who would work for House Driscol to be proper." She purses her lips, thinking. "That is reasonable, yes. What of outside the Aegis, and beyond Fastheld?" "There, my rules only apply to those who serve me," Gefrey says simply. "This is what you must understand, if you are choosing to go into my service. I will provide for you, but you must live by the rules of my House. We will do no harm to any, however, nor shall we attempt to subjugate." She nods, slowly. "Tell me, then, about these rules? And if, once entering your service, I am free to leave?" "The rules are simple, Mistress," Gefrey says calmly. "Obey the law, obey orders, respect the chain of command. You will report directly to my Captain of the Guard, and I may ask you to aid allies of mine as well. One more thing: your name, Mistress?" "Mina Steelwood... your Grace," the Wildlander replies, tugging at the hem of her tunic and dipping something resembling an awkward half-bow. That might even be seen as some sort of agreement. "*Will* I be bound to your service?" "You are free," Gefrey says, waving a hand. "Which means that if you ask me, you may be released from my service, but you are expected to speak to me rather than just leaving." Mina marches up to the throne and sticks out her hand, apparently unaware that there might be any other way to formalize an agreement--with nobles or no. "Then it is done. Your terms seem reasonable, and I think I can adhere to them well enough to be serviceable. When do I start?" The Duke pauses a moment, then smiles in a musement, extending his own hand as well, though he certainly does not lean forward to catch the woman's. "Tomorrow," he says. "I will introduce you to the Captain of my Guard, Vayon, then." Mina blinks, shrugs, and shakes Gefrey's hand. "Very well." She smiles, a shade impishly. "We can discuss the terms as far as pay goes then, too. I will be staying at the Dragon's Hoard. Expect to see me tomorrow morning." ---- ''Return to Season 7 (2008) Category:Logs